Some Girls Don't (Outback Heat Book 2) (2 page)

Best to get it over with.

“It was good of you to agree to be the guest speaker at the dinner dance tomorrow night.”

It was Selena’s turn to shrug. “They asked, I accepted.”

“I heard you knocked them back.”

She had. But then her grandmother had asked her to reconsider, and she hadn’t been able to say no to that. Grandy had never asked her to come back. Not once. She’d raised Selena to be career orientated and had not only understood Selena’s need to leave but had urged her to do so. She’d been Selena’s most ardent fan and her absolute rock.

She couldn’t say no to Grandy.

“I changed my mind.”

“Yeah … I heard that too. I was surprised.”

Selena could pretend that she didn’t know what he was talking about, or she could address the subtext head on. “It was time.”

“Oh?”

“Grandy’s getting older.”

“She’s eighty-two. She’s been getting older for a while, Selena.”

If he meant to make her feel guilty he succeeded. “I see her twice a year, Jarrod.”

Every Easter and Christmas Selena paid for a ten-day holiday for them both. Grandy caught the bus into Brisbane and they jetted off somewhere. They’d been all up and down the east coast as well as to New Zealand, Bali and Fiji.

“Yeah, I know.”

Selena didn’t feel particularly mollified. She wondered how often he and her grandmother talked about her while Jarrod was
helping her out around the house
. The thought of it needled. “I hear you were engaged last year but broke it off after a few months?”

“Yes.”

If her prying annoyed him he didn’t let it show. “I’m sorry. Grandy said she was lovely. A nurse at the hospital?”

He gave a brisk nod. “It was for the best.”

Selena wondered
why
it was for the best. Even years after leaving him her heart had cramped up when Grandy had told her of his engagement, and she was ashamed to admit part of her had been glad when she’d heard of its demise. She
did
want Jarrod to be happy—more than any other man she’d ever met, he deserved it.

But part of her would always think of him as hers.

“What about you?” he asked. “Anyone special?”

Selena nodded. “There’s someone. From the station … a producer. He lives in Brisbane.”

It was a lie, but Selena needed the subterfuge. The Weston brothers all had an honourable streak a mile wide. She knew Jarrod would never cross the fidelity line. Not for anyone.

Not even her.

She was counting on it. Because despite the years and the temporary nature of her visit, Jarrod Weston still ticked all her boxes, and she didn’t trust herself anywhere near that damn line.

“Selena? Is that you?”

Selena dragged her eyes away from the lock they had on Jarrod’s and peered over his shoulder at her grandmother standing at the top of the six stairs she knew so well, beaming at her, her arms open.

“Jarrod,” Agatha Durrum reprimanded good-naturedly, as Selena brushed past him and headed towards her grandmother, “why didn’t you tell me my girl was here?”

“Sorry Mrs D.” Jarrod turned to face her. “We were just catching up.”

Selena took the stairs two at a time and hugged her grandmother hard. She looked thinner, her hair whiter, her shoulders a little more stooped and Selena eased her hold a little.

“Goodness,” her grandmother said. “Now that’s a hug.”

Selena smiled as she pulled away. “I missed you.”

Her grandmother lifted an age-spotted hand and gently rubbed Selena’s cheek. “And I you. Now … let’s get you inside for a cuppa, and you can catch me up on all your gossip.” She turned sharp eyes in Jarrod’s direction. “You too, Jarrod. I took a batch of jam drops out of the oven half an hour ago. I know they’re your favourites. Your mum’s were better, but mine are still pretty good.”

Elizabeth Weston’s jam drops had been known to make big, tough shearers weep. She’d been the best cook in the district—nobody in Jumbuck Springs disputed that.

Selena was hyperaware of Jarrod’s solid muscularity as he stood shirtless on their path. But more than that she was aware of the brooding look in his stormy eyes and a sense of unfinished business between them.

Please say no
.

Or at least put on a goddamn shirt.

“Sorry, Mrs D. I’ve just got a couple more nails to put in, then I’ve got to get cleaned up and head to the firehouse for a while.”

Her grandmother tsked. “You work too hard, Jarrod.”

He shrugged, his huge shoulders shifting like mountains. “Keeps me out of mischief.” He glanced at Selena. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Jarrod’s giving us a lift,” Grandy said.

Fabulous.
“Oh, great, thanks.” She kept her features neutral and hoped he didn’t still have that dual cab ute they’d made out in too many times to count. “And thanks for helping with the roof.”

“Anything for Mrs D. I
really
don’t mind.”

He was annoyed again but Selena figured that was preferable to whatever the hell had been going on before. She turned towards the door and followed her grandmother into the house.

*     *     *

Marcus Weston was
sitting at the kitchen table doing something on the laptop when Jarrod stormed in fifteen minutes later and made a beeline for the fridge. He pulled out a beer. “Want one?” he asked his brother.

Marcus lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not even eleven.”

“Suit yourself.” Considering Marcus could drink his weight in beer at the pub after the footy most weekends he could shove his judgement.

It was bloody hot out there. In more ways than one.

Jarrod shut the fridge, twisted the top off his beer, threw the cap in the sink then downed half before striding over to the table and sitting opposite his brother.

Marcus frowned. “What’s up?”

Jarrod took two more mouthfuls of his beer. “Selena’s home.”

“
Oh …”

“Yes.”

Marcus grinned in the face of Jarrod’s obvious displeasure. “Damn.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think she was doing the school thing?”

“She changed her mind, apparently.”

“She look as hot as she does on the tellie?”

Jarrod stared morosely at the level of his beer. “
Ohhh,
yeah.”

Hot didn’t even come close. Fifteen years had transformed her pretty, blonde, small-town looks into a sleek, city sophistication. Beautiful. Refined. Confident.

Damn it. Why was confidence such a turn on?

Marcus whistled. “She always was one fine-looking chick.”

“Marcus.” Jarrod’s blood pressure rose a few notches at his brother’s continued reference to his high school sweetheart’s hotness. His smug little leer raised it another couple. “Shut the fuck up.”

His brother chuckled. “So … what are you going to
do
about her being in town?”

“Nothing.”

Another chuckle. “Nothing? It’s over?”

“Absolutely.” There was no point getting into all that again. Not even for a weekend. Selena, he’d learned to his detriment, was like his own personal crack.

“Just like that?”

Jarrod rolled his eyes. “Hardly. She’s been gone for fifteen years.”

“Right, so you wouldn’t mind if I had a go then?”

Jarrod’s blood pressure spiked into stroke range. “You lay one single finger on her and I will beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Marcus threw back his head and laughed, clearly unperturbed by Jarrod’s threat of violence. “So … not over her then.”

He was. He just didn’t want his brother touching her. Or anyone he knew, really. Anyone who lived in Jumbuck Springs. The entire fucking district, come to think of it. He especially didn’t want her boyfriend
the producer
touching her either.

Crap.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” he snapped at Marcus, downing the rest of his beer before heading back to the fridge for another.

“So the plan is just to sit and get pissed all day thinking about the one that got away?”

“Fuck you,” Jarrod muttered, amusing Marcus even further.

A particularly potent mix of ancient feelings and current frustrations brewed in his gut with the beer. It wasn’t good for rational thinking. It sure as shit wasn’t good for talking to his idiot, Casanova brother. He wouldn’t understand a long-term relationship if it bit him on the ass.

He grabbed a beer and stormed out of the kitchen, the sound of Marcus’s laughter following him down the hallway.

‡

S
elena plonked herself
down on an ancient leather recliner in the lounge room.
Her
recliner. It had belonged to her grandfather, who had died just before she was born, but it still worked as if it had been bought yesterday. When she’d come to live with her grandmother, newly orphaned at the age of three, she’d inherited it.

Grandy had one too. They sat side by side facing the television with a little table separating them. Selena had many happy memories of them watching cartoons together on Saturday mornings back when her feet barely reached the end of the cushion. And eating tea from a tray every night while they’d watched the seven o’clock news.

Her ambition to become a television news anchor had started right here in this very chair.

“Has it started?”

Selena smiled at her grandmother as she bustled in from the kitchen with two glasses of sweet sherry—her night-time ritual. Selena had been well and truly shooed out after they’d done the dishes. “You’re just in time,” she said, turning up the volume as the dramatic musical intro to the Channel Four news played.

Grandy set their glasses down on the table between the recliners. The faces of Victoria Turner and Mike Stratton filled the screen.

“That Victoria has gorgeous hair, doesn’t she?” her grandmother mused as she settled herself into her chair.

Selena nodded. Victoria’s hair was a stunning Titian red. In fact everything was stunning about Victoria. Including her personality. She was just an all-round nice woman and an absolute professional.

And Selena couldn’t see her vacating that chair any time soon. Which meant more time travelling around in the regional areas
reporting
the news instead of
presenting
it. Waiting for a lucky break.

Or trying her hand at another station.

But news anchor positions didn’t come around that often and were highly sought after. She’d be foolish to have to prove herself worthy all over again at another station when she’d been busting her ass to build a good rep at Channel Four.

Grandy yawned as she sipped at her sherry. Selena knew exactly how she felt after a full day of being dragged around Jumbuck Springs “visiting” with all her grandmother’s friends. And her grandmother had fifty years on her.

They watched the news together as they always had, commenting every now and then on the headlines, waiting until the ads to discuss anything more in depth. “Well, that’s me done,” Grandy said, flipping the lever to right the recliner as the news ended. “Shower and bed I think.”

Selena looked at her, alarmed. Since when had Grandy been so early to bed? “It’s only seven-thirty.”

“I’ll read for a while but I’m always up at sparrow’s fart, you know that. And it’ll be a late one tomorrow night with the dinner dance. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

No, she wasn’t. Her wrinkles were deeper, her shoulders were rounder. But her step was still sprightly and that twinkle in her eyes was the same as always.

An imperious voice played through her head.
She’s been getting older for a while, Selena.
A prickle lodged itself at the base of Selena’s spine.

Damn Jarrod Weston to hell.

“Are you … okay, Grandy?”

Her grandmother looked at her. “Of course, darlin’” she said, patting Selena’s hand as she rose from the recliner and headed towards the kitchen with their glasses.

She held herself a little stiffly, though, as she hobbled for a few seconds. Selena followed her into the kitchen and leaned in the doorway as her grandmother placed the glasses in the sink then fussed around putting some jam drops onto a plate.

“Grandy.”

Her grandmother turned and tsked at Selena’s frown. “My bones ache a little and I tire more easily, but I’m fine, darlin’.”